


Guitars, cry, guitars.

by AgenteYumi



Series: And even if it takes my life I will not stop loving you [4]
Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Based on a tweet from Lee Unkrich, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 09:55:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12885396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgenteYumi/pseuds/AgenteYumi
Summary: The guitar was his most precious posesion. To show Imelda how much she loved her, he took all the care he could with it.





	Guitars, cry, guitars.

**Author's Note:**

> -Again, english is not my first language.  
> -This one-shot is based on a song, at the end the link and a translation.

Imelda was jealous of the guitar every time she was Hector playing it. Like a lot. She could almost stop caring about the girls of Santa Cecilia flirting with him and instead fight agains the old guitar for Hector’s love and care. But once he started to play a song while seeing her at the eyes, she understood that her jealousy was ridiculous. He loved her more than the guitar. So she joined to his song.

  
Her beloved knew about that, because more than once he caught her dark eyes glowing as embers while he was playing. That’s why he didn’t understood why on their wedding day, she gave to him the beautiful silver guitar, with lunar shining on it, that he will never leave from that day.

  
“Of course I feel jealous of it, but I will die if I don’t hear you singing” Imelda explained, days before the wedding, while they were accomodating to their new home. “And don’t act innocent. I know what happened to your dad’s guitar. Ernesto may be a brute but not enough to broke it… and you would had stopped talking to him if that was the truth”

She looked her engagement ring with sadness. Hector sold the guitar, the last memorie of his father, to give to her  _a proper ring_. Imelda would have been happy even if the ring was just some rope around her finger.

  
Her husband could imagine her, saving money from the embroidery and singing lessons that she gave sometimes, or from selling empanadas or from the times that she helped her aunts on the market until she had enough money for the guitar. And it didn’t looked cheap at all. She decorated the pegbox for it to have certain resemblance to him.

  
For that reason, the guitar was his most precious posesion. To show Imelda how much she loved her, he took all the care he could with it.

  
Years before, when Imelda had the shoe workshop, someone who went to place an order of shoews, had with they an album of Erneto de la Cruz. On it he appeared with the guitar that she bought with so many sacrifices to the one she called hers so much time ago. She didn’t knew if she wanted to die of anger on that moment or run and search for Hector behind every stone and kill him with her own hands for gifting something that she bought with so many ilusions, destroy his face with the guitar as she made before with her wedding dress, the one she embroidered putting on every stitch all her dreams.

  
Ernesto always said that that guitar cried, like a violin. He wasn’t as good as Hector with the guitar, it was true, his forte was his voice, but that guitar fighted against him every time he played it.The instrument missed her owner. She was the silent witness of the crime and she tried to make the world to know, but her voice was inaudible. When Ernesto died and she was placed upon the tomb, she never felt more relieved.

  
Until one day, a pair of small hands took her from her place. Those hands felt somewhat like the hands of her original owner. And for the first time, to play some notes weren’t hard or painful. But as soon as those hands played something, she fell to the floor, making an empty sound inside the dark tomb.

  
It wasn’t the first time that some crazy fan tried to took the famous guitar. 

**Author's Note:**

> 1- It was a tradition on my family for the brides-to-be to do the embroidery of their dresses. My mom did it on her dress with the help of my grandma. I guess it was a thing on my town.  
> Now my older cosins haven’t done that because anybody got time fo’ that. And we didn’t had enough patiente to learn embroidery.
> 
> Guitarras, lloren guitarras ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gzm63d9kMLw)  
> -Pedro Infante
> 
> Guitars, cry, guitars  
> Violins cry too  
> Don’t let me go  
> With the silence of her song.  
> Let’s scream with open chest  
> A song that makes the world tremble  
> Because it’s the big harbor  
> Where one comes and other leaves.
> 
> Now it’s my time to leave them  
> Now it’s my time to go  
> Guitars, cry, guitars  
> Because my heart will reman  
> full of love on every chord  
> crying seas.


End file.
